


with these words

by besidemethewholedamntime



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, canon compliant to 5x22, it's sad and sweet all at the same time, letters from the heart, post 5x22
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 13:55:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14916608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/besidemethewholedamntime/pseuds/besidemethewholedamntime
Summary: "because the truth of the matter is that being with you all these years as a lab partner, as a best-friend, as a husband, as anything at all really, has made my life better than it ever could have been."A letter from Fitz to Jemma.





	with these words

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote something! I'm not too sure about it, because I don't know, it's a cheesy idea and writing letters is always hard because it's in first person and it's not my strongest subject but I just had to write it. Something possessed me and I figure you should try things out of your comfort zone, right? 
> 
> I hope you guys like it! I am also on tumblr as 'besidemethewholedamntime' if you ever want to chat about those post-finale feels that I am still feeling all these weeks later!

It’s Elena who hands the letter to her.

“We found this,” she says gently, with heavy eyes that betray her heavier heart. “It’s for you.”

She doesn’t say where she found it, or explains the ‘we’, just holds it out for Jemma to take.

“Thank you,” Jemma says dutifully, almost-robotically. She gingerly takes the letter, holds it as though it’s something she can barely stand touching her fingers. Looks at it warily, recognising the handwriting she knows as well as her own.

She feels Elena eyeing her, but she doesn’t have the energy to do anything more than stare at the item in her hand.

“We’re all here for you, Jemma.” There’s a light touch to her forearm and footsteps away from her, but she can’t stop looking at the innocent white letter burning her fingers.

_Where did he find an envelope?_

It’s the first thought that pops into her mind, and it’s so bizarre that it almost makes her laugh. Here she is, staring down at the envelope that contains words from her dead husband that she’s never seen before and all she can think of is where on earth did he find an envelope in this place?

It would make her laugh, it’s a little bit funny, but she’s so terrified that the second thought is:

_What did he put in here that he couldn’t say to my face?_

Because he’s said it all to her, hasn’t he?

_You’re more than that, Jemma._

_I can work for you, I just can’t work with you._

_I’m not strong enough to live in a world without you in it._

_I’ve got something magnificent right here._

_I am the luckiest man on any planet._

_I can’t choose anything over you._

So what’s so terrible, what’s so awful, that he could find the time to write it down, but couldn’t find the time to actually tell her?

Deciding she doesn’t want to find out just yet, with trembling hands she tucks it away underneath her pillow, and tries not to think about it for the rest of the day.

But night comes and she can’t sleep and there are too many unanswered questions so biting her lip, with forced measured breaths, she takes the letter out once more, and stares at the handwriting spelling out her name. Rarely has she seen her name spelled out in his lettering before, and it hits her how this very well may be her last chance to do so.

Ever so gently, not wanting to even tear the envelope more than she has to, Jemma gently teases open the seal. Once finally open, she breathes  shaky sigh of relief, however, still aware that opening the envelope was not the hard part, but at least it’s one obstacle done. A hurdle cleared. The only barrier between her and the last words of her husband is now… _her._

It's just paper. A regular sheet of A4 paper folded in half and half again. It’s a little bit squint, she notices, and then feels immediately horrible for doing so. These are Fitz’s last words to her and here she is complaining over how squint the paper is.

It’s not long. The writing doesn’t even fill the first side of the sheet of paper. The hammering of her heart increases more and more until she has to stop looking at it and take deep breaths just to regain some semblance of control.

Somehow less words are just… worse.

 _Oh come on, Jemma,_ she chides herself, sitting up straighter. _You’re being silly. The only way to truly know what’s in that letter is to just read it and stop being so afraid. This is Fitz and Fitz loved you. You know that._

She clears her throat to stall for a few seconds longer. Then she begins to read.

_Jemma,_

(Oh, how seeing her name in his handwriting for the second time brings tears to her eyes)

_You once made me videos that you weren’t sure I would ever see. I didn’t completely understand then, but I do now. So here I am, writing a letter that I hope you won’t ever have to read._

_I want to apologise in advance for how bad this letter is going to be. There’s so much I want to say. Or, really, there’s so much I need you to know but I’m not sure how to write it down. It’s a bit late now, I realise that if you’re actually reading this. But you know me, Jemma, I can never seem to find the right words until it’s too late._

For a brief second it feels like the water is rushing in all over again, and she can’t breathe. Only this time she’s not sure she wants to swim.

_Marrying you is the best thing I’ve done with my life. I need you to know that. I need you to understand that. I haven’t done much, not really, not by myself. Everything meaningful I have done with you. Marrying you made me feel, really, like the luckiest person on any planet because we got there. We got married. Something I never, ever, in my wildest dreams thought could happen for a terrifying number of reasons. We made it to that place that takes normal couples far less time and less universe-defying moments. We did it._

_I should have said more, then. I know that. I should have said all sorts of things but the truth is that words really aren’t enough. They aren’t, because what I feel, what I know, cannot be accurately put into words. You deserved words though, you did. For the wedding and for everything that came after, you deserve words_

Jemma tastes salt and feels her mouth tremble. She drops the paper as if it’s shocked her, needing a moment or a million to process. She doesn’t need words, didn’t need them then or now. She needs _Fitz._

Except the only Fitz she has right now are in these words, this letter which is really one of the only tangible things she specifically has left of her husband Fitz. Taking a deep, cleansing breath and wiping her eyes, she picks it up again.

_I’m so sorry, Jemma. I’ve put you through so much in these past few months than I’ve ever wanted to in a lifetime. ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t enough, either, but it’s all I can give you. I am so, so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I have only ever wanted to protect you, but I realise now that in trying to do that I only brought about hurting you more. If you’re reading this now, then know I was going to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. I want so badly to give you that life that you’ve been dreaming about since you were a girl. If you’re reading this then it means I wasn’t able to. Know I wanted to. I wanted it more than anything, I wanted to make you happy again._

He made her happy by simply being in her life, and right now she has such an ache to be able to tell him that it’s almost unbearable.

_I know what you might be thinking. I know you that well. I know that you might be regretting the choice we made all those years ago. I once said that I wish you hadn’t dragged us out of our non-mobile lab, or words to that effect. It was a nice, comfy lab and we were doing just fine there, we were. Just fine. But the truth is that you were right (as you always are): we did have to get out and see the world. We would have sat in our safe lab for years and would have missed out on all of this. On all those new experiences. On our new family. You didn’t drag me anywhere, Jemma. I went where you went, like I was always going to. And no matter what’s happened, and what’s going to happen, I would do it all over again._

For hours and hours, she has agonised over that decision made what feels like lifetimes ago. What if she had been content where she was? What if she could have just been satisfied? She can still remember, running to Fitz, breathless with excitement and her head dizzy with all of the possibilities. She remembers his reluctance, but his eventual agreement. Yes, she had felt a little guilty at the time, and each incident over the years has only added to the layer of guilt around her heart that rears its ugly head ever so often. To be absolved of it now, after all these years, is _freeing_ in a way she doesn’t want.

_Because the truth of the matter is that being with you all these years as a lab partner, as a best-friend, as a husband, as anything at all really, has made my life better than it ever could have been. I won’t complain about the years we had together, because they were the best years of my life. I only wish we could have had more._

_I do too, Fitz._ She tells him, silently. _I do, too._

_I think that’s everything I wanted to say. Or everything I needed to say, anyway. I’ll probably think of things later and end up crossing out stuff but I’ll try not to because I know how much you hate it and I don’t want you to be annoyed at me when I’m gone because then I won’t get to hear your ‘Ugh, Fitz’s or see your epic Jemma Simmons eye rolls._

It makes Jemma smile through her tears and she rolls her eyes to a heaven she doesn’t think exists, murmuring an ‘oh. Fitz’.

_I don’t know if we’ll save the world or not. I hope we do. I want that optimism of yours to be right, to not be for nothing. But if we don’t. Or if we do and something happens to me, that we don’t get lucky this time, I want you to have this letter full of things I might never get a chance to tell you out loud but things it’s important for me that you know._

_You made my life worthwhile, Jemma Anne Simmons, simply by being in it._

_All my love,_

_Leopold Fitz. Engineering._

Jemma releases a shaky breath that encompasses a little whimper and presses the letter to her chest gently so she doesn’t crumple it.

“I love you, too, Fitz,” she whispers. She doesn’t believe in heaven, but right now she wishes she did because goodness knows she sees why people need to.

Wiping her tears so they don’t drip down and smudge the writing, Jemma reads the letter again and traces her finger gently over the words. She can picture him as he wrote it; one hand rubbing the back of his neck in frustration as he balled up yet another version in which the words didn’t come across as well as he wanted them to.

The image is so real in her head, so vivid, that she almost believes she could go next door and see him sitting there, writing it. It steals her breath, makes her gasp and choke and shudder underneath a grief she thought she’d been bearing so well until now.

She reads the letter until she has it committed to memory; until every pen stroke is marked indelibly onto her brain so that no matter what happens now or later, at least she still has this, and it’s at least one thing that nobody can _ever_ take away from her.

She reads the letter until night turns into morning and back again, and she murmurs his words under her breath and laughs and cries as if she’s reading it for the first time every time.

She reads the letter and every time she does it’s like he’s here with her and it’s all okay and there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.

And so she reads it again, and lets Fitz be brought back to her through his letter, and she lets it be enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to leave kudos/comments. Please feel free not to. Either way, I hope you have a lovely day!


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